the tree.

The Christmas tree hunt was a tradition started in my childhood, always held on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. No exceptions.

This year, we were somewhere on a highway in the middle of Kansas on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, headed home from Colorado. Then, a friend was visiting the following Saturday and I was stuck in bed with the most horrible feels-like-someone-is-pouring-poisonous-acid-directly-onto-my-tonsils illness on Sunday. The evil throat poison illness relentlessly kept me down through Thursday morning.

As of December 8th, we still did not have a Christmas Tree.

Do you hear what I’m saying? The halls were not decked. Advent readings fell behind. Because I was sick, yes, but partially due to the fact that there weren’t any sparkly, magical, hope-casting lights to sit beneath while we read the stories of our faith.

This is nonsense, I realize this. Yet, the finding of the tree and the hanging of the lights and the ornaments is a whole thing.

The Christmas tree held some of my favorite memories as a child. Our entire extended family would go to dinner at the same restaurant every year (I can’t remember the name of the place… clearly, an unimportant detail). After dinner, we were focused and ready to find our perfect tree at the same Christmas Tree lot each year. My Aunt Donna would break out the gigantic camcorder and she and I would act as “reporters.” Imaginary microphones in hand, we would walk around the lot, camera trailing behind, to interview each family member using our best “newscaster voice.” We would break into fits of laughter as we asked complete strangers to share their own tree hunt experience with our “viewers.” After trees were selected, they were stacked in my uncle’s truck. He would make the rounds to each house to deliver our prized Douglas Firs. While decorating, I was in charge of the tinsel. I loved the tinsel. Our tree was always overly decked out in the shiny, straggly, multi-colored product of the 80’s. Apparently, the tree wasn’t complete without heaps of tinsel.

So, you see, the tree is important. It just doesn’t feel like Christmas without a tree.

This year, I was forced to be still for four days. It doesn’t seem like much time, yet, I woke yesterday with a sense of urgency. Our lights haven’t been hung, the wrapping paper hasn’t even been purchased, much less the gifts. The cards are in a stack on the counter, unaddressed. The stockings lie sadly in a pile, they have yet to be hung by the chimney with care.

Yet, a sense of peace slowly settled as I surveyed the mess and the un-doneness of it all.

Jesus didn’t leave his Majestic throne in Heaven to slip on skin and enter into humanity in order to pat us on our backs and say, “well done. Ooh, beautiful mantle vignette. The monogrammed, hand-stitched stockings are a lovely touch. You guys have this whole thing figured out and you’re doing it beautifully.”

He came to us in the midst of our suffering. He stepped right into our mess. He wasn’t deterred by our disappointments or our unmet expectations.

I don’t want to sound like the Grinch, but it has all begun to feel a bit hollow. It often seems we are looking for happiness and hope where it was never meant to be found—in facades and fake smiles. This has robbed an entire season of the meaning and beauty it inherently has; not one of an over-realized eschatology where everything is already perfect, but a realistic hope that though things are broken now, Jesus is making the world right again—and He’s on His way back to finish the job.

We shouldn’t ignore the fact that we are in the middle of the mess, but we can celebrate the fact that we have a God who is above all the mess, sovereign and wise.

This is the hope of Advent. We shouldn’t ignore the fact that we are in the middle of the mess, but we can celebrate the fact that we have a God who is above all the mess, sovereign and wise. He is in control. And He is coming to make all things right.

The hope of Advent indeed. Even in our messes, we can pause to seek His face. We can rest in the assurance of God with us.

So we were a few days delayed in getting our tree. Although I had wanted to go back to the tree farm where we could cut down our own, we ended up at Lowe’s after an impromptu dinner out because I didn’t feel well enough to cook yet (or do dishes, you understand). The pickings were slim as we were clearly among the last of the tree purchases this season. My little merry crew didn’t see slim pickings, they only saw the tree. They cheered (literally, cheered) when Dave stood the first tree we came across up for inspection. Shrieks of delight filled that home improvement warehouse last night.

The tree is sitting in the middle of the living room as I type, awaiting it’s proper place in front of the window to be cleared. It’s lopsided and the tag still hangs from a branch. Pine needles cover the floor. It’s a mess.

But, it smells divine. And this tree is a reminder for me this year: traditions are lovely, yet, the moments here and now are to be savored. Make time for the unexpected, embrace the mess, lay the brokenness at His feet, and soak up the joy.

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Hi there! I'm Jenny, wife to Dave and momma to four littles. My desire for this blog is to tell the stories God is writing in my own life with the purpose of encouraging you, dear reader, to seek joy in the midst of the ordinary and to relentlessly pursue Hope even when brokenness is abundant.